


Better is the Apple You Give Than You Get

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-18
Updated: 2012-12-12
Packaged: 2017-11-05 14:40:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/407593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A town that cherishes the idea of a community united, Apple Valley is an ideal place to live. But it's completely by accident that Castiel Milton ends up there, walking into the bakery-slash-cafe owned by Dean Winchester. It's even more accident that he winds up living with Dean. And falling in love? That's more like something out of a movie than a casual accident. By the time it happens, Castiel finds he's put down roots in a town for the first time ever and he can't quite say he's surprised.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Apple Valley was exactly the kind of town it sounded like. Everyone knew everyone else, and if you were born there, your grandparents probably went to school with your best friend’s grandparents. The biggest buildings in the town were the library, the high school, and the church. Everyone attended church, even if they didn’t really have faith--it was just what they did in the town. The pastor was good old Mr. Jones, an elderly man whose family was one of the founding ones in the town. His sermons were often lighthearted and more discussions than preachings, and that was probably what kept even the faithless returning.

Yes, Apple Valley was a town that valued the power of a community united. If a neighbor was ill, five showed up on the front step with a pot of soup. When someone passed, the funeral was a grand affair with the church reduced to standing room only. And whenever anyone accomplished anything remarkable, it was front-page news. Tourists and new-comers were welcomed like old friends and everyone had a place. If you were quirky and somewhat retro, you were probably best found over at the local sandwich joint, The Sandwich Stop. If you were quiet and reserved, the public library was the place to be. And for everyone else, from the outright eccentric to the normal home-town folk, you could be found at Bittersweet, the local cafe-slash-bakery.

It was here that Dean Winchester first laid eyes on Castiel Milton.  


* * *

To be fair, Dean spent his every hour at Bittersweet, which he well should, seeing as he was the head baker. To anyone not from Apple Valley, it was an odd sight, the rough-and-tough eldest son of the local war hero John Winchester wearing an apron covered in flour, barking out orders and slicing pies with ease. But it was something he was good at and something he enjoyed. True to its name, Apple Valley boasted one of the largest apple orchards in the area, and it was Dean’s pride and joy. The land belonged to an old grump, Rufus Turner, who was a friend of John’s. Dean, from the age of 10, spent his weekends trimming and pruning the trees, fertilizing the land, and finding pesticide-free ways of keeping bugs out of his precious apples.

When he became old enough to legally hold a paying job, he was hired as a baking assistant at the bakery, then called Just Desserts, working under then-head-baker Bobby Singer. He quickly learned his way around an industrial kitchen, and sooner than anyone had ever imagined possible, he’d produced a better apple pie than Bobby. From there on out, Rufus decided none but Dean Winchester should be allowed to use his apples, and he signed a document gifting the land to him. John was less than pleased, hoping his all-American boy would join the service like he had, but Dean was happy to be out breaking his back in that field day after day. Soon enough, Bobby was ready to retire, and made Dean head-baker and manager of the joint, which he promptly renamed Bittersweet, converting the unused portion of the building into a seating area, with bookshelves and armchairs he built himself.

It was Dean’s pride and joy just as much as the orchard, and every moment he could spare away from the fields in the autumn--harvesting season--was spent behind the counter as he would spend them in the off seasons, taking orders and making small talk with the people he’d grown up with. He memorized everyone’s orders and knew who would best appreciate his new concoctions. He even had a gift for predicting the orders of people he’d never met. He might not be doing what was expected of him, but he was content. Hell, he was happy.

* * *

Being that Bittersweet boasted the most charming of all the storefronts in Apple Valley, and that it was the first business when one pulled into town, it was not odd for any tourists or newcomers to come into the shop to ask directions or advice. Dean was usually quick to help out, but if he was wrist deep in a new pie, he’d send someone else to the counter to talk to the visitor. Today, he was damn near elbow deep in a new apple turnover dough he was trying out when the bells jingled. He was short staffed today, having given his brother Sam the week off to study for his AP tests, and so he immediately called out, “I’ll be right there!”

Pulling his hands out of his dough, he quickly washed up, wiping them on his apron as he rushed out of the kitchen and into the dining area. His attention was focused on his apron which admittedly did nothing more than dirty his hands further, when a gravelly voice greeted him.

“Hello. I’m not from around here, I was hoping you’d be able to help me?”

Dean looked up, ready to answer any questions the new guy had and felt the wind near-knocked out of him. The man standing before him looked...well, relatively normal. But for whatever reason, Dean swore this was the kind of moment from a movie. Where time seems to stand still to give you an extra lingering moment to stare, where the light manges to hit everything just right, where the rain stops, and your heart beats faster and slower all at once. He quickly raked his eyes over the man, noting that he wore a navy blue three-piece suit under the long tan trenchcoat that was hanging loosely at his sides. His hair was windswept--not uncommon for this time of year--but it was his eyes that really caught Dean’s attention. He was certain he’d never seen any quite so blue.

Giving up on wiping his hands, he leaned against the counter casually, resolving to treat this man like any other newcomer. “Sure thing, man. I’m Dean Winchester, the owner of this fine establishment. I’d shake your hand but mine are a little messy.”

The man didn’t quite smile, but his eyes seemed teasing, which Dean took as a good sign. “I’m Castiel. Castiel Milton.”

“Castiel, huh? That’s a cool name. Mind if I shorten it though? It’s a bit of a mouthful.”

“That would be fine. My sister Anna calls me Cas. And my brother Gabriel...” his voice trailed off and he mumbled as inaudibly as possible, “he calls me Cassie.”

Dean grinned widely. “Well, Cas it is then. All right, Cas, how can I help ya?”

Castiel returned Dean’s smile with a shy one of his own. “Well I sort of have this thing where I move around a lot because I haven’t found a town I really fit into yet and this time I just sort of took out a map and pointed at a random spot and this is what I chose. Only the thing is I’m not even sure if there’s any place for rent around here?”

“Yeah, actually, there’s a few houses. No apartments, we’re not really that kind of town. Do you have furniture?”

“No, it’s sort of impractical when you live like I do.”

“Okay, well, I think there might be one furnished home for rent. What do you do for a living?"

“Everything. Anything. Whatever puts food on the table.”

“My kind of man. Well, I can always use more hands around here or in the orchard and I know Ellen’s hiring over at the Roadhouse. That’s the local bar and grill.”

“What exactly would I be doing if I were to work here?”

Dean grinned. “Well, we do a bit of everything here. I might teach you my secret apple pie recipe and have you work in the kitchen, or you could work the counter. There’s always repairs needed on the furniture since I built it all myself and that’s not exactly my best skill. Then there’s work in the orchard with the trees.”

Castiel tilted his head, seemingly considering his options. “I think I would very much like to work here, if you’re sure you can use the help. Is there some sort of application I should fill out? Or a formal interview or anything of the like?”

Dean let out a laugh, leaning back agaisnt the opposite counter. “Man, you just passed your interview, I wouldn’t have offered if you hadn’t. And I’m not big on paperwork, so no applications. Welcome to the Bittersweet team.”

“Just like that?” Castiel asked incredulously. “You just hire a complete stranger like that?”

“You’re not a complete stranger,” Dean said kindly. “You’re moving into town, so for however long, that makes you one of us. The first thing to know about us around here is that community is family and family is everything. So, seriously, man. Welcome.”

A strange look formed on Castiel’s face when Dean finished speaking, and his head ducked down. “Thank you.”

Dean gave him a moment, recalling what the man had said about never finding a place he’d fit in before, and realizing this was probably overwhelming, this sense of welcome. “So, if you want, I can take you to look at who’s got places for rent.”

Cas looked up, a shy grin playing on his lips. “That would be lovely, thank you. But you seem to be in the middle of something?”

Dean waved a hand nonchalantly. “It’ll be here when I get back. Just give me a sec to call someone to come cover the front counter.”

“Of course.”

Dean took off his apron and reached his hand under the register to grab his cell phone, dialing his number four speed dial. “Hey, Jo. Yeah, I’m good. Listen, do you think you can run across and cover the counter for me? We’ve got a newbie and I offered to help him out. Shut up, no it’s not...you’re the worst. Yeah, yeah. Okay, see you in five.”

He flipped his phone shut and put it in his pocket. “So do you want a coffee or piece of pie or anything while we wait?”

“Oh, no, I’m fine.”

“Come on, man, you gotta have something. Here, I know.” He dashed back into the kitchen and came out with a turnover. “I’ve been working on a new apple turnover dough all day, you can be my guinea pig. How do you take your coffee?”

“Black with four sugars,” Castiel said with a grin. “Are you always this pushy?” he asked, watching Dean fix him a cup of coffee.

“When it comes to feeding people? Pretty much. Okay, here. Now be honest about the turnover, okay? Constructive criticism and all that.”

Dean watched with bated breath as Cas broke off a corner of the turnover, noting how it flaked and crumbled perfectly. When he took the first bite, he let out a soft noise of surprise.

“I think,” he said, swallowing. “I think that’s probably the best turnover I’ve ever had. And I’ve had a lot, from all over the country.”

Dean’s face lit up in a wide grin. “Really? Nothing to offer to work on?”

“It’s literally perfect,” Cas said, his mouth full again.

The bells on the door jingled, and Jo came in, grabbing an apron off the hook by the door, saying, “You’re lucky Mom has Ash today or I wouldn’t be able to cover for--” She stopped short when she turned, laying eyes on Cas properly for the first time. “Oh, hey. You must be the newbie. I’m Jo. Harvelle,” she said, extending her hand.

Castiel shook it firmly. “Castiel Milton.”

“I can see why Dean wanted to help you.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Nothing, ignore her,” Dean said, giving Jo a glare that could melt ice. “Just man the counter and don’t eat everything?”

“Whatever, grumps.”

“Come on then, Cas. Let’s go find you a place to stay.”

* * *

After driving around the entire town and going to every place Dean knew was for rent, they discovered that all the pre-furnished homes were already occupied. Which left Castiel with the options of an empty home or the motel.

“I’m fine with a motel,” he said, sighing in defeat as they sat on a park bench next to where they’d parked their cars. “I move so often anyway.”

“I doubt you’re gonna want to leave here. You said you want a place to fit in? We can give you that. Trust me. We’ve got all sorts of folk here and everyone is family.”

“You say that now, but you don’t even know me.”

“Don’t have to. It’s just what we do here.”

“Well, in any case, I do value having a bed, so motel it is.”

“...maybe not.”

“Pardon?”

“Well, I just moved into my own place. I’d been living with my dad and brother for a while, but I decided it was time to move out, let Sammy have his own room and all. I’ve got a guest room. It’s fully furnished. All I’d ask is that you pitch in for groceries and help cook some nights, but you’re welcome to stay with me until we find something more permanent.”

Castiel tilted his head at Dean again. “I’m a complete stranger and you’re letting me into your home? I mean, first you hire me, now this?”

“Just gotta have a little faith and trust sometimes, Cas.”

“I’m half-surprised you didn’t say ‘and pixie dust’ at the end of that,” Cas muttered.

Dean doubled over in laughter before catching his breath enough to say, “I was going to but I wasn’t sure how you’d take it.”

Castiel grinned, a full one this time, the first real smile Dean had managed to coax out of him since meeting him. “Well all right. I guess I can crash at yours until I figure something out. Where do you live, exactly?”

“Four blocks that way, the big house at the apple orchard. It was given to me by the man who used to own the orchard, Rufus Turner. He passed away a few years ago, left me everything. He was a real close friend of my dad’s.”

“That was kind of him. Should I wait until you close up at the bakery, or may I head there now?”

“I’ll take you. Just let me call Jo, I can have her close up early.”

“Oh, I don’t want to disrupt your day. I can hang around the shop if you like.”

“Nah, we’re practically already home anyway,” Dean said, pulling out his phone. “Jo. No, they were all taken. Nah, he’s gonna take my guest room. Would you stop? Look, I’m just calling to say close up, I won’t be going back in tonight. Joanna Beth don’t even start. Yes, yes I did. Uh huh, I’m so scared. Whatever. Just close up and take the batch of turnovers from the kitchen to Ellen, would you? Make sure she gets one, don’t let Ash eat them all. Thanks, Jo.”

He stood, turning to Cas and holding out his hand to help him up. “All right, then! Homeward bound!”

Cas just stared at him, half in shock and half in amusement before taking his hand and allowing himself to be pulled up. “If you say so.”


	2. Chapter 2

Cas couldn’t help but think Dean had fudged the truth when he said they were nearly home, as the drive seemed long and winding, though that may have been due to the fact that the orchard was deep in the heart of the woods at the edge of town. The road wound and wound round the side of a soft hill, until finally the dirt gave way to a paved drive. Up, up, up the drive they went, through thickets of apple trees, the road nearly obscured by leaves and the air smelling fresh and pleasant, until finally a large structure came into view. The home was enormous at best, with bay windows and a front porch large enough to have a party on. It was a soft white with a beige trim, and the wood of the doors, porch and window frames, Dean noted, was redwood, from trees grown on the property.

Cas stared in awe, shutting the door of Dean’s car gently. Dean grinned as he watched his new friend slowly walk up the front steps, his hands gracefully fluttering over the handrails. There was a light in Castiel’s eyes that Dean wasn’t quite sure he could describe to justice, but he would say the closest description he could find for it was pure wonder, the way a child’s eyes light up when they see something that reaffirmed their idealistic belief in magic.  


Cas carefully stepped up the final step onto the front porch and slowly turned on the spot, taking everything in. "You live here?" he asked, his voice so soft Dean scarcely heard it.  


"Yeah. I can see that it's a bit much, but good ol' Rufus never settled for less than money could buy. And he was rolling in the stuff, what with these orchards and all."  


"Does it ever intimidate you? All this," Cas said as he gestured about, "being yours?"  


"Sometimes, yeah. Sometimes I wonder how this became my life, but most of the time, I'm just so goddamn happy with everything that I don't even notice all of the responsibility. I mean, I've got my brother, I've got my shop, I've got the fields, and I've got a home beyond a dream. Life's pretty good for me most of the time, so it's kind of difficult for me to see much of the bad."  


Cas sighed almost enviously. "It all seems so easy for you. This home, the orchard, your job, your family..." His voice trailed off sadly, and the light in his eyes was replaced with a deep melancholy. His shoulders had fallen ever-so-slightly, and the lines at the corners of his eyes no longer reflected the joy that emphasized them best, but rather, a keen unpleasantness that Dean was heartbroken to think this man could have ever experienced. Wanting to break the mood and hopefully cheer his guest up, at least slightly, he spoke up again.  


"So, how about the grand tour? You saw most of the orchard on the drive up, but this house is clearly gigantic, and you really have to see every inch of it to fully appreciate it." He grinned at Cas and held out his arm, hoping to bait at least a teasing look out of him. To his delight, Cas not only linked their arms, but he also laughed softly, the bleakness in his eyes dissipating, replaced with an echo of the previous wonderment.  


"Sounds like a plan."  


* * *

They first went through the living room at a painstakingly slow pace, Castiel wanting to take in every inch of the room, his face slowly lighting up with a smile. His fingers gently traced the edges of the tables, and his eyes scanned the high ceilings as if he'd been bidden to memorize their every facet. The same tender observation was paid to every inch of every room, none more so than Dean's own bedroom. Castiel first murmured that he didn't need to see it if Dean didn't want to show him, but Dean insisted, assuring Castiel it was the most beautiful of all the rooms in the house. When they stepped inside, Cas saw he wasn't bluffing. With the high ceiling, the crown moldings of soft leaves, the bed built out of unfinished redwood and the window seat with a view of the entire orchard, Castiel wondered how it was Dean brought himself to leave bed every morning.  


When he said as much, he was met with a loud laugh and a shrug. "Your guess is as good as mine. Anyway, now that you've seen all the rooms, including yours, why don't I whip us up some dinner?"  


"That would be most welcome, Dean, but I've just remembered something."  


"What's that?"  


"We came here in your car, meaning all of my clothes are back in mine, at the bakery."  


Dean barked out another laugh. "So it would seem. Shit, I didn't even think about that. Well, let's see. My pants might be just slightly too large on you, but I think I've got a pair of Sam's around here somewhere. You'll have to do with one of my ratty t-shirts, if that's all right, I don't exactly own anything else. And I'll dig up some pajamas for you before bed. You won't mind, will you? We'll just make sure you drive your car back here tomorrow."  


Cas shook his head with a laugh. "You're impossible, Dean Winchester."  


"How do you mean?"  


"I mean you can't be real. You can't actually exist, can you? You meet a perfect stranger and you immediately offer him work. When you find he has nowhere to go but a motel, you offer him a bed. He forgot his clothes? You offer yours. You are exactly the kind of man the fairytales wrote of, the kind of man that exists only in Shakespeare or Grimm or Dickens. How is it that you are a real breathing person, and moreover how is it that I've met you? You are the kind of man reserved for a good person, a pure soul. Not..."  


Dean's face and neck were tinged slightly pink in embarrassment that someone would instantly think so highly of him, but Cas's last comment caught him off guard. "Look, Castiel, I might not know much about you yet, but whatever it is you think I am, I promise you, there's nothing in your life that would make you unworthy of being in mine. And in case you weren't already aware, life isn't a fairytale. If it were, I'd have a mom _and_ a dad, instead of a dad who does nothing but ride my ass all the time for not being the son he wanted. My mom would've lived to see me graduate, to see me make something of myself. But this isn't a fairytale, no matter how badly I wish it were. I truly appreciate your initial assessment of me, but I promise you, I'm just a good guy. Nothing more, nothing less. Though I gotta admit, it breaks my heart a little bit that you've not met enough good people to see that. And that you think there's something in your past that could completely obliterate the fact that you are, indeed, a good person." He sighed shortly before continuing. "I'm just a guy trying to help someone out, okay? So just let me help you. Please." He held out his hand for a handshake, staring at Cas, whose face was pointed toward the ground.  


Castiel saw the hand extended toward him, but couldn't bring himself to reach for it. Dean knew nothing of him or his past and yet was so certain there was good in him, when he himself knew differently. Suddenly, a second hand was under his chin, gently tilting his head up. Dean was staring at him imploringly, with a soft smile on his face. "It's just a handshake, Castiel."  


Cas grinned shyly, and accepted the handshake. "Thank you, Dean."  


"No prob, Cas. Now about dinner..."


End file.
